I Will Remember
by Meatball
Summary: Faramir recalls earlier times with Boromir. Please read and review, thank you! Cheers...


Title: I Will Remember  
  
Author: Meatball  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, then it does not belong to me.  
  
Summary: Faramir recalls earlier times with Boromir. Please read & review, thank you! Cheers.  
  
****  
  
"Pass me that scroll on the shelf beside you, Boromir."  
  
Gandalf accepted the aged, cord-tied scroll from the small boy that was in the room of records with him. Denethor had grudgingly allowed him access to the precious, ancient (and very dusty) records, but had not wanted to let the old man loose, unsupervised, so had thus detailed one of his sons to accompany the wizard. Gandalf did not object; so far, the boy had proved to be both quiet and courteous, as well as helpful.  
  
"Faramir, sir."  
  
"Eh?" Gandalf sneezed. Faith, but this place was coated in dust!   
  
"Faramir. I'm Faramir, not Boromir. Boromir is out in the courtyard, practising his sword fighting."  
  
Gandalf looked down at the thin, fair-haired child. "You're not Boromir? Peace, lad. I am sorry. You both look very much alike to an old man like myself." He offered a placating smile.  
  
The youngster's freckled face was very serious, and bore no answering smile. "No, sir, we do not. Boromir is taller than I, and much stronger, and braver. I am smaller, and weak, and...and...I look my mother, sir."  
  
Gandalf seemed puzzled, but for a moment; then, turning away from the dusty parchment, he focused his full attention on the boy. "Yes, Faramir. Yes, you do look like your mother. That is not a bad thing, boy."  
  
The boy cast his eyes downward, and made no reply. After a moment, Gandalf spoke, his tone gentle. "Of course your brother is bigger than you, and stronger. That is to be expected, for he is your elder, is he not?"  
  
Eyes still down, Faramir nodded.  
  
"Some day you will be big, and strong. You must be patient. And bravery, young master, takes many forms."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
For a moment, Gandalf observed the boy; then, he smiled. "Come here, Faramir. Let me show you something." Making room for the boy on the bench, he slid over. Faramir obligingly sat beside him, his serious eyes wide as Gandalf carefully unrolled the dusty scroll.   
  
"What are those markings, sir?"  
  
"That is the script of the Elves, child." His long, gnarled finger carefully traced an ornate design. "This is the Elven word for 'king'. And this one, for 'battle'." He paused, and looked at the boy's face, with its wide eyes and mouth hanging agape. "Would you like to learn how to read this, Faramir?"  
  
"Oh...oh, yes, Mithrandir. I would, indeed!" Faramir tore his fascinated gaze away from the tired parchment, and peered up at Gandalf, half-frightened, but with a longing that could not be disguised. "Could you...I mean to say, would you...teach me?"  
  
Gandalf had not the time for this task; however, there was that in his heart that said to him that yes, indeed, he would and he should teach the boy. Faith knew what would be the outcome of this endeavour. But for now, suffice to say that it could not be any less than a wise investment of his time. He felt this, and was sure. "Yes. I will teach you."  
  
***  
  
Some hours later, the door to the room of the records burst open. "Faramir!"  
  
"Yes, Boromir?" The boy reluctantly tore his gaze away from the text, where he had nearly learned to decipher all of two scrolls. He was a quick study, and Gandalf found that he had unexpectedly enjoyed teaching his young charge.  
  
"The dinner hour is nearly here! What are you doing?"  
  
"Learning to read."  
  
A pause, then Boromir made his way into the room. Gandalf noted the strong resemblance between the two, although he could see more of the father in the older boy. He tensed, waiting for the boy to scoff at Faramir's accomplishment, for reading and writing was not a skill prized by the young warriors of Gondor.  
  
He was surprised, however.  
  
"To read?" Boromir grew eager. "You can read those old scrolls?" With a bright smile, he glanced up at Gandalf, and wrapped an arm reassuringly around his younger brother.   
  
"Not all of them, not yet. But Mithrandir says he will teach me."   
  
Gandalf smiled at the two boys.  
  
"I can read nearly all of this one, however."  
  
"Wonderful! To me, this looks like so much scratchings. What does it say?"  
  
"It tells of the great battle, of long ago. With Sauron."  
  
Boromir's eyes grew huge. "Will you tell me of it?"  
  
"Yes." Shyly, Faramir looked up at his brother. "I will show you how to read it, if you like. When I have learned how, that is."  
  
With a sunny smile, Boromir hugged his brother. "I would like that, little brother. Very much! And I will show you some new tricks that Edenor showed me today, in swordplay. But it is nearly dinner, and I am famished. Come now, and eat with me!" He grabbed Faramir's hand, and tugged him away.  
  
"Wait, I must retie the scrolls..."  
  
"That is not necessary, Faramir. I have more work to do with them." Gandalf waved him off. "I will see you tomorrow, after fast break, and we shall continue then. Will that do?"  
  
"Yes, Mithrandir, and thank you!"  
  
"Will you come and eat with us, Mithrandir?" Boromir looked up at the wizard. "There is always plenty, enough for us all. Please come."  
  
Gandalf had intended to sup at the inn on the lower level, in order to hear the news, but the pleading look on Faramir's face changed his mind. "Well, then. I will, and I thank you! But you must help me now, then. Come, and we shall retie these scrolls."  
  
"But I'm hungry now!"  
  
"Then go, Boromir, and I will be there shortly." Faramir broke away and returned to Gandalf's side. "But save me some good meat."  
  
"I always save you the best, little brother. You know that. I will go, then! And I will see you both soon!" With a rakish grin, the boy ran off, all arms and legs.  
  
Faramir and Gandalf worked quickly. "You and your brother seem close, Faramir," he observed.  
  
"Oh, yes, Mithrandir. He is my best friend, and I love him best. Best in all the world!"  
  
"And it seems that he loves you best, as well." Gandalf smiled down at the boy, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do not forget that! As you both grow, so shall you grow apart, and your duties will separate you. But as long as you love each other, distance shall make little difference to you." For a moment, Gandalf paused. Then he said, more softly, "Remember this day, Faramir. Remember all your days with your brother. For it is on days like this, that life is good."  
  
"Yes, sir," Faramir said, his blue eyes serious. "I won't forget."  
  
***  
  
The softly-singing waterfall outside the cave was a sweet background to Captain Faramir's thoughts. In the next room, the halflings -- Hobbits -- muttered to themselves, frightened, yet weary. Yet another burden to add to the myriad of burdens that he already shouldered. But for just a precious moment, in his soul, Faramir was in the past, remembering the days with his brother, the days in which life was good. The precious days. Unbidden, a tear slid out from under his lashes. There had been too few precious days. And now there were no more to come.  
  
Faramir sighed, and squared his shoulders. Wiping the tear away, he stood, and sighed again.   
  
"...remember today, little brother..."  
  
I will, he thought, as he went to speak further with the halflings. I will remember, big brother. I will remember always.  
  
*** 


End file.
